


like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh

by sleepdrunk



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 00:10:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18021146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepdrunk/pseuds/sleepdrunk
Summary: Phaser fire ricocheted off of a gleaming black rock, sending a cascade of rough grit into Saavik’s eyes. She closed them tightly, and when they opened, her nictitating membranes remained.Almost at the rendezvous point, she thought, sparing a scant second to look down at her tricorder. Just keep running, any minute now—But of course these things never went the way she wanted them to.i am re-re posting this work, if you have read it before; that's why





	like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh

“Your work today was excellent as per your usual, Lieutenant,” said Saavik, as she reached the door to her quarters. “Captain Spock will be pleased with your continued progress.” She punctuated her statement with a curt bow of her head-- a cue for Valeris to leave. Yet she remained standing in front of Saavik, hands clasped behind her ramrod-straight back, their positions mirrored.

The curves of her body and the flat expanse of her wide hips was alluring. A slight tilt of her jaw, and her face was framed prettily by her blunt black hair when just moments ago she was the picture of Vulcan righteousness and discipline. The harsh fabric of her uniform seemed ill suited, like she was used to clinging silks and finery. 

“May I come in, Commander?” 

Saavik thoroughly stomped down any involuntary facial expressions which would convey her surprise, but was certain she had failed.

“Do you have something you wish to discuss further? The status of our experiments is--”

“I’m well aware of that, Sir. I meant--” Was it possible Valeris looked unsure of herself? “I did not mean to presume. I wondered if you might welcome some shared personal time.” After a long moment, Saavik nodded. “Of course. Come in.” 

Valeris slid in behind Saavik, slinking into the room like a cat as though she had consciously shed her professional façade. 

“Please-- take a seat,” Saavik said, as she led the way. Her quarters were satisfactorily dim, even when fully lit. She had hung bead curtains, some in traditional Vulcan designs, others in colours of orange and pink sorbet. The former were hand-me-downs from Spock, the latter from Kirk’s self-described “wilder days”. 

Valeris’ hands brushed the curtains delicately, and they fell behind her. She sat on one of the low, overstuffed cushions on the floor of the makeshift lounge area. 

“Ah-- Spice tea?” Saavik offered, hoping she wasn’t imagining the box of tea she still had, languishing in her cupboard. 

“That would be acceptable.” Valeris had stretched out, leaning back on her elbows. Her long legs were in front of her and she had removed her boots and stockings, revealing dark red polish on her nails. It was unexpectedly indulgent looking, given Valeris’ penchant for using the concept of asceticism as a tool for unbalancing any given conversation partner. Saavik tore her gaze away from the pale skin that seemed to emit its own glow in the low light, and withdrew to prepare the tea. 

She gathered her thoughts, trying to find some centre. She punched in an order for simple boiling water into her personal replicator and turned away to remove her boots while it processed, tucking them under her tidy bed. Returning to the device to retrieve the tea from above the replicator, she could just barely make out Valeris’ form through yet another layer of beaded curtains. Her bedroom was a more spare and impersonal than the other rooms she’d eked out for herself, save for her corner desk which boasted photographs of herself, David, and her fathers; each in simple, unassuming frames; and a neatly arranged line of vintage books. Her bed was just a single, made up neatly with ‘Fleet issue sheets, comforter, and pillow; all in military grey, immaculate save for the impression of her own backside where she had sat and donned her boots that very morning. At the end of the bed was a shabby, handmade quilt in Amanda’s delicate hand-- an ever present reminder of home and a comfort so strong that it had felt alien when she first beheld it. 

The cupboard above the replicator was empty save for two lonely boxes of tea. The entire bedroom felt like a pit-stop hotel on some lonely outpost; personalized for a few days at a time by dirty clothes and sodden towels and boxed instant food, then empty again like a ghost town. Her eyes fell again to the silky skin-- just two feet seen through the veil of beadwork; hands invisible, face in shadow. Valeris seemed to be swaying; dancing to an invisible beat, slowly and calculatedly alluring, but in a way that could never be completely manufactured. She made a choice to reveal her sensuousness, that was sure-- Valeris seldom took a breath without calculating every possible outcome and effect on those around her. But something in the last few weeks had softened in a way that wasn’t cold, calculated _‘network building’_. 

At least, Saavik hoped she wasn’t imagining it. 

She straightened her back up and grasped the mugs-- again, gifts from her dads. They were a matching pair, short stubby things finished in Raku like an oil slick, the bottom done in a stripe of matte red. She walked in shoulder first to move the curtain out of the way, protecting the liquid with her body. 

Valeris smiled up at her, making no move to rise and take a mug. She had shrugged off her red uniform jacket and sat in her black slacks and red ribbed sweater. She’d also taken off the white hair band that was her usual fashion, and it sat pillowed on the shockingly unfolded jacket behind her in the dark corner. Shiny, coal black hair freed; Saavik could see that the sides of her head were shaved beginning at the line of her bangs, and continued back to the nape of her neck. Saavik was suddenly self-conscious of her own unruly curls where they insisted on tickling her neck.

She bent to place Valeris’ mug on the floor next to her, hoping she wouldn’t kick it over in a fit of uncoordinated lunacy as she tip-toed over Valeris’ long legs and the cushions strewn about the small room. Economy of movement was the hardest adjustment for her when Spock had brought her to Vulcan-- but her family had always understood her; especially Amanda-- but the panic tended to rise in her throat like acid when confronted with another Vulcan. Especially one from one of the high houses, like Valeris was. 

 

\---

Phaser fire ricocheted off of a gleaming black rock, sending a cascade of rough grit into Saavik’s eyes. She closed them tightly, and when they opened, her nictitating membranes remained. 

Almost at the rendezvous point, she thought, sparing a scant second to look down at her tricorder. Just keep running, any minute now—

 

But of course these things never went the way she wanted them to. 

If she had had the time, she would have directed a few nasty thoughts Starfleet’s way. Had she a second to spare, maybe she would have fantasized about balling out the genius in the admiralty who had decided this planet was “ _at a key point in the development of its civilization! It is imperative that we secure diplomatic ties-- and prevent the Klingons from their usual strategic move of getting there first and freezing us out!”_

Had Saavik had the time to fantasize about such things, Valeris’ horrible groan would have wrenched her from her reverie.

 

She had never heard a sound like that coming from her FO.

 

Valeris had been shot. Twice—she’d been hit in her right shoulder, and in her lower abdomen.

 

Saavik felt like she’d lost time somehow. A rebel sect had stormed the negotiations. The rebel force numbered no more than thirty, but possessed weapons that should not have logically existed on this planet-- barring, of course, off-planet interference. It was a class M, non-confederated planet which did not possess warp technology. What had ensued was chaos the likes of which Saavik had hardly seen in the worst pleasure planet bar fight. To say that the indigenous population on this continent was in conflict was a colossal understatement, but each side were united in their extreme adherence to honour and tenets of vengeance.

 

The proclaimed ruler of the dominant sect, _Rehl-ånis_ , had declared unilaterally that she would enter into negotiations heavily favouring the United Federation of Planets. However, she had neglected to hold any semblance of regard for dissenting voices, despite assuring the ‘Fleet that everything was copacetic. Evidently, the rebels had sought exoplanetary help; and they had received it.

With inadequate intel, the landing party had been sent into a trap.

 

Saavik looked down at Valeris. A sage green crept in at the edges of her eyes. Her nictitating membrane remained partially closed as Saavik gently eased the lids open to check pupil dilation. Her jaw was set in pain, even though she had lost consciousness from the pain and blood loss. Saavik didn’t even know what had happened to her security team. 

In the ensuing chase up the unforgiving coal-black hillside, Saavik had finally fired her phaser full strength at a precarious outcropping above, and crushed their pursuers entirely. She had no doubt they were dead.

 

Following Saavik’s shot, debris from the blast hung in the air entirely too long for her animal hindbrain— though she knew logically that it was owing to the high moisture content of the air and strange behaviour of the magnetic core—and she had begun to panic. For an eternity, she could see nothing but shifting black soot. She had had no idea where Valeris was, but could hear her moaning; the wretched pain sounding so strange coming from her mouth that Saavik might have sworn it was something else. 

The black soot had hung a beat longer, and then fell too fast, all at once. Saavik whirled around, continuing her panicked search. She tried to take a lungfull of air and wound up having to suppress a coughing fit.

She had blinked the grit from her eyes. There, finally; was Valeris— Saavik had sprinted five long strides, and sank to her knees. They had, at least, wound up at the mouth of a cave in the rocky hillside, and no soul was about to emerge through the pathway obliterated by Saavik’s handiwork. By some miracle, she had managed to hold onto her emergency pack, and her first officer did not appear to have sustained spinal cord injuries.

Saavik prayed to any deity who would have her that she was not mistaken. 

Having superficially assessed the extent of her injuries, Saavik gingerly slid her right forearm under Val’s shoulders, and then the other arm under her backside. Saavik slowly lifted one knee, rolling Valeris’ centre mass towards her core, and stood. She marched slowly and steadily into the cave, holding her tricorder awkwardly in her burdened right hand so that the emergency light could guide their way.

 

Finding a clean spot on the floor, Saavik had laid Valeris carefully down. Tricorder readings indicated shock. Her kit contained an instant expansion thermal blanket. Saavik was grateful that she had brought down more than was called for, but if the situation as it was prevented rescue efforts by the _Enterprise_ , well... 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” she said, rambling and breathy as she took Valeris’ tricorder readings. She reached down and grasped her hand, realizing with a jump that not all Vulcans were like her adoptive father; and they were certainly not like her. She tried to snatch her hand away but the unconscious Valeris held fast, and sighed as if contented. Saavik left the hand there. 

\---

Luckily, Val was shot with phaser fire. There wasn’t any foreign body to deal with; no toxins leaching out or things getting lodged in other things. It looked like they had clean phasers as well, coming from a photon core-- rather than a cheap combination of photon and an exothermic reaction. After a long night of vigilance, Saavik was certain that her XO was stabilized. She was lucky; the first wound had gone right through and she was able to cauterize it with her own phaser. The second was just a glancing shot that bled more than it had a right to, and it was easily taken care of by the dermal regenerator once she’d stopped the bleeding. Valeris herself had gone into a trance soon after, and had yet to awaken. 

Saavik sat on a wide, flat rock in their hideaway with her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. She looked up at Valeris: Vulcan perfection in every way, even in a deep sleep. 

She’d never gone into a healing trance of her own-- they made her panic. Another way she didn’t belong. She didn’t know what it was like to enter a “battle trance”-- like a Romulan. The Vulcan trances were another story. The last time she’d hurt herself badly enough to enter one, she’d began to panic and seize the second it felt like she’d lose consciousness and horrible half-seen memories surfaced like huge black ghosts. 

Valeris stirred where she lay. Saavik leapt to her side and took her hand where it lay by her side. That wasn’t right, she shouldn’t be--

“Slap m…” Valeris mumbled and she frowned as though confused. “Sl--”

Oh. Right. Her father had told her about this. Jim was there, and it made him laugh and he kissed Spock’s cheek and then hers. He had shared the information for reference in the event that Spock became incapacitated, back when she was a teen. But then she’d joined the ‘Fleet herself and it became first aid for herself and any other Vulcan crewmembers. 

Saavik rose from where she knelt in the dust so her other hand could touch Valeris’ cheek. She cupped it gently, her frigid fingers cold against Valeris’ warm skin. 

“I’m going to slap you now, okay? In three…” _Smack._ No change. Again. _Smack. Smack!_

Valeris’ eyes shot open and she sat up suddenly with a shout. Saavik still held her hand and grasped her opposite bicep, easing her back down. Her sleek black hair splayed out over Saavik’s backpack that served as her pillow. 

“Mister Valeris, you are injured. You are in a cave on _Ah-Rel IV,_ and--”

Valeris sighed and rolled her eyes

“I know where we are. Don’t be insufferable.” 

Saavik screwed up her face.

“I shall attribute your _attitude_ to blood loss.”

She normally never defended herself against Valeris; in fact she hardly ever seemed able to even remain self aware when Val started to hurl insults at her. Of course, sudden rage was indeed indicative of a serious health problem in the healthy Vulcan-- but Valeris’ whiptongue had reared its ugly head soon after they’d formally announced their intention to bond. Saavik was used to it. Val had been in perfect health the entire time, thought Saavik bitterly as she busied herself with re-packing the medical supplies.

“Illogical and inefficient as usual. What ‘Fleet graduate manages a commission and remains ignorant to the technicalities of simple Vulcan first aid--” 

Saavik chalked up her ability to remain grounded on the stimulating effects of adrenaline, and the inebriating effects from lack of rest.

Still relying on sleep like a _child_. 

The line was another voice on another world and it was Valeris’ and it was inside Saavik’s own head; all at the same time. The anger she felt burned hot, but she must allow herself to feel, lest she depersonalize completely and float away; begging for forgiveness just to make peace. She let it burn through the panic, and let it pour tears down her face. 

She thought for a sickening moment that she was just taking advantage of Valeris’ current weakened state, like she’d learn her lesson when things went back to normal: they would beam back to the safety of their lives. The drudgery of command; the routine. The daily sense of urgency-- that they were needed. That their quick action and precision made a difference. 

They would spar; they would fight for real in their quarters, more fierce than any human aboard might imagine. 

They’d fuck. 

They’d fall in love again-- wild alien flowers on the makeshift table; a disc of wood on the floor, water vessels tipped over in their haste to devour one another. Valeris splayed on her back fully clothed as Saavik sailed into her lap, pouring her love out with thighs between thighs and hungry hands rubbing heat into soft flesh. A kiss with eyes closed, screwed shut; as though they were afraid to look. 

_Afraid to look._

Saavik’s heart dropped. Her stomach clenched. This might finally be it-- the fateful day she’d expunge her addiction to this woman. The woman to end all women, for Saavik at least. The last she’d see of the proud face, strong like a warrior’s mask, but plastic in its expression in the most unexpected of ways.

She was always in Saavik’s head.

They should confess these problems, at least to Spock-- so that he could arrange a healer. But Saavik knew exactly what the healer would say-- if they ever got that far. Valeris would leave her the second their relationship was exposed to any _proper_ Vulcan.

No-- they’d bond one day, but it would be as secret as possible and only when Valeris entered _Pon Farr._

Saavik herself could never admit-- not to anyone who would tell her what she already knew in her heart of hearts-- that this love was shattered like a smoky mirror. It killed her to keep looking. 

She turned around to look at Val. She held her face in her hand and tucked sectioned of black hair, wet with mud and moisture from days in the cave. She still managed to look fiercely capable, as though she were simply irritated by the predicament. 

Saavik leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips; feather-light but full with a promise, and then she rose and left the cave. 

\---

Valeris would always remember their relationship as as _sexy._ There was no other way of putting it-- a concept she had learned only when she looked beyond the borders of her cloistered family-- a thing she was only able to do after her clan’s untimely and tragic slaughter. 

The way she and her lover danced together was the strangest thing. Their week-end ritual that might be considered childish by some on Vulcan-- a way for juveniles to expend energy before one was able to channel it all _logically_ , of course. Any adult who still enjoyed social dancing, or at least was caught out enjoying it, was looked at with deep suspicion in most circles of acceptable society. It was more of an open secret than anything, but never something one admitted in public. It existed in rumours and some groups-- but only when they were in from the out-of-doors; their cloaks tucked neatly away. 

Vulcan society was open now; had been for centuries-- but their collective memories remained-- and the _arc_ remembered. Remembered a time where they were all scholars of Surak, and not just custodians. But the drive to change their society was more a faint rumbling-- the idea of a more accepting, ideal society made Valeris’ heart thump in her throat. 

It was something everyone thought about, or at least heard about on the lips of Vulcans in the more casual eating-houses; or in student dormitory common-rooms-- yet another recent addition which some elders decried as an influence of Starfleet. They also blamed Terra for an increase in popularity for parties, particularly ones dubbed _‘salons’_ , which intended to mimic the early meditation and discussion groups of Sarek himself; but the very term was a loan-word from modern French. At these gatherings, _cacao_ might be indulged in, and other things that staunchly proper Vulcans eschewed. On the far end of the rebellious school of thought were enterprising individuals who wrote tomes upon tomes of loosely arranged… _literature_. Valeris winced-- that label could only be applied liberally. 

The most popular of these schools of thought-- was Sybok.

Valeris sighed. That was all she had on the house of Sarek. 

For now.

Alas, it was all public knowledge. She could in theory use it as leverage against Spock’s character. He had a sister also in the fleet; a certain _Commander_ Burnham. Her full-blooded human status had shocked Valeris when she had learned of it-- but from the Ambassador famous for his marriage to a human woman, the adoption could not be called surprising. No, Burnham studied xenoanthropology and had been hand-transplanted by Sarek onto the _Shenzhou,_ and she had risen to the rank of commander and served as first officer. She had achieved dubious status as a legend when she committed treason against her captain, but that was a Starfleet charge; not a Vulcan one. Besides, Vulcan scholars who looked at the topic seemed to come to a consensus that Burnham had followed the tenets of logic the only way she could-- a position only strengthened when her record was cleared.

But Sybok-- Sybok she could use.

And here was his sister. Yet another adoptee. A lonely woman. The ward of a family with an odd proclivity toward humans and the clear and present danger that posed to the Vulcan way of life, in the eyes of many houses. 

And a half Romulan to boot, thought Valeris; as her lips pulled at Saavik’s clitoris, as she licked and laved around it and vibrated the pad of her tongue against it, inhaling the heady, spicy scent of her skin.

Saavik shuddered and arched her back and rocked up and down onto the two fingers scissoring inside her. She felt incredibly soft inside, slick with lubricant and engorged flesh. Valeris crooked her fingers and pressed hard into the bundle of nerves inside Saavik and pulled her clit into her mouth, sucking hard. 

Her lover above her cried out, warm brown nipples perked up with stimulation; her small, creamy breasts bouncing where they peeked over the white sheets. She arched back and her soft thighs tensed on either side of Valeris’ face. As Saavik reached orgasm, she spasmed rhythmically around the fingers inside of her, and Valeris fucked her to completion. Shuddering and whimpering, she came in waves. She laid soft fingers in Valeris’ hair, coming through it and small fingernails exploring the texture of her the close shaved hair at the nape of her neck. She lifted her head to make eye contact as she came down from the crescendo, but shuddered and jerked once more with a laugh as their eyes met; coming to orgasm again with the change of position and Valeris’ kiss laid sloppily to her clit. 

“Ah--” she breathed out, thumbing Valeris’ brow at the sensation of her pulling out. “Come here,” she pleaded, and Valeris rose, not bothering to wipe off her hand as she climbed over Saavik’s body. Her stomach was warm where the corner of the blanket had covered her but her breasts were cool to the touch from the air. Valeris kissed them, the sensation of dampness eliciting a surprised huff and Saavik’s hand to tense in her hair as it combed through. 

Saavik hummed, satisfied. Valeris spent long minutes kissing and fondling her chest as though she could not bear to leave them, she followed Saavik’s pleas upward and met her in a kiss. Saavik was lax and pliable, hunger reentering her post-orgasmic body at the taste of herself on her lover's lips. She laid back a fraction, legs relaxed and open; Valeris coming up the centre. She could feel her wetness against her stomach. 

She wished she could stay like this forever, bringing Valeris to ecstasy for an eternity with her tongue and fingers. 

It was times like these when Valeris lost her conviction.

Saavik looked down at her, her bare face and earnest expression light and good humoured. The hint of a smile danced at the corner of her eyes. She was dewy with sweat, ringlets of her hair free of her customary pins. 

_“Taluhk nash-veh k'dular”_

Valeris wished she could ignore the declaration but found she could not; wished for the detachment and disdain she usually found for a lover’s desire for commitment. Something horribly soft and warm gripped her heart. She flew to Saavik’s lips and fell into a hungry kiss, pressing her form back into the cushions, cradling her head in her hands, feeling the spring of her damp, soft curls around her fingers. 

Saavik let out a sigh and gave Valeris free reign. Slowly, she slid her hands down Valeris’ sides, palms creating friction over her ribs and sliding down the slick of sweat at her waist. She smoothed her hands up and down her long, lean thighs and moved a knee, heavy with satisfaction, to rest under Valeris’ warm heat; her delicate skin still covered by silk briefs. She let out a pretty sigh and allowed herself to grind against Saavik, who smiled against her mouth and brought a gentle hand to cup her vulva through the fabric. 

She snaked two fingers underneath the dampened fabric. Valeris was breathing heavily and Savik met her eyes. She slowed her motions and her expression turned dark and she pressed in harder. Valeris was pulled into her and the meld that never happened, began. Rapture ran through her body in waves and never stopped; not even the breakers; deepest blue ocean lit by nothing except the stars on a planet with no moon. 

Her head fell back. A mouth was on her neck and a finger sank into her pussy and the mouth sank down her rocking hips and shuddering abdomen that shook at the whims of the gods-- a seafarer, losing herself in this vast ocean. 

A fat, slow tongue across her sensitive head, then it was pointed and hard and the finger was joined by a second, and a thumb switching off with the mouth. 

She wailed and cried out. The sea was dark and cold and she could feel her _Katra_ reach out for Saavik, whose own swam relentlessly in exuberant joining. 

Oh, how she so wanted to sail up, sea foam spraying a pretty face as it disappeared back into the atmosphere; gone forever. Unreachable. Cold. Distant. 

_And stinging and unquenching._

But Saavik was a creature of her sea and she would not be turned away. It was too late. The orgasm rolled through her body and her back arched, shuddering-- and Saavik fucked her, slow-- firm, and lifting up and going faster, and faster. She came through the last of it with a wide-eyed cry, then, as Saavik kept filling her with her sure, blunt hand; Valeris tapped at her frantically and pulled her up, thighs wrapped around her ribcage, ankles locked behind the soft, lean flesh of her back. Her soft curls melted in Valeris’ palm-- incredibly soft, like her lips and her tongue and the way her thumb eased off her clit and she thrust slow and gentle, before she picked up again. An expression that could have been playful- a bitten lip, a lowered lash-- were it not dark with an intensity

 

_“Saavik--”_

“Hmm? What is it? That was--” she replied, tracing tickling fingers up and down Valeris’ sides. 

_“Saavik!”_ Valeris held her face. “It is my _time”_

“It’s your what?” She asked, lazily-- then her eyes widened in surprise and concern. “What, now?”

Valeris gave her a withering look, but the effect was ruined by the sweat on her brow and the rising fever; sated only partially by their lovemaking. 

“Okay. Then I guess it’s time.” Saavik soothed her hair with the touch of her hand and a chaste kiss. She raised Valeris’ hand to her face, to meet her psionic points-- but Valeris stilled her hand. 

“Before you do this, you must know-- I--” She gulped, body vibrating with the sudden rush of chemicals. Her lover would see things, and know her _katra_ ; and she found now that she did not care. “You must know that I renounce it all. _Please, no matter what happens--_ ” 

They fell into the bond like a rockslide tumbling into the sea, before Saavik could ask what she meant.

\---

Saavik heard the words of the healer, but all she could feel was her heart breaking; deep inside her abdomen. She stared straight ahead; the cold fingertips of the matriarch on her face and she blinked, and clenched her jaw. She would not give them this-- the satisfaction of seeing her emoting. She would not give them the proof that they sought; that she was weak, and lesser. 

That was the final blow. Knowledge that a wife, _parted from me and never parted; never and always touching and touched,_ should be able to hide such a dark plan. 

No, she would not cry and shake like her body commanded. She would float above it all, and tomorrow, she would attend Valeris’ sentencing. 

Inside her, the bond was breaking under the careful ministrations of this healer; a Vulcan woman whose name she did not even bother to enquire after. At first empathetic, Saavik could feel her probing further inside her mind, now that the bond was broken. 

“That is enough. You are dismissed.” She would not concern herself with playing the chameleon; not anymore. An outsider she was, and an outsider she would remain. 

“Please hear me, young one. I cannot speak for others; however I must be clear. You will forever be welcome on Vulcan, and we accept you as one of our own.” 

“I am gratified for your service,” Saavik responded in afterthought, and she rose to leave without another word. 

\---

Jim and Spock held her and kissed her cheeks before the trial began, and that was when she felt most unable to hide her sorrow. 

“May I?” Jim asked; gesturing to her fat, pregnant belly. His face was plump and held a high colour-- eyes bright with good humour, even in the circumstances of his daughter-in-law’s terrible betrayal. 

Saavik smiled in spite of herself and nodded. The three of them were alone in a private alcove; her fathers waiting to be called in to give testimony against Valeris. Jim spread one hand-- fingers stout and stiff, but still nimble-- over her belly, then the other one. His face was bright in reverence, and he looked from Saavik to Spock and back again, at a loss for words. 

_“Wow,”_ he said simply, after a moment. “Wow. Oh Spock, Saavik-- I’m-- I wish David had been here to see this.” Though he mentioned his late son, his voice did not quaver; as though the continuation of life might make up for the loss. 

“My sentiments exactly,” said Spock. He looked at the pair of them with fond amusement. “May _I,_ Saavik?” At her nod, he placed his hand between Jim’s. The baby kicked, and he chuckled, wide eyed-- a rare display. 

Jim withdrew, and gave Saavik a hug which she accepted, if somewhat stiffly; still overwhelmed by the rapid-fire sequence of events, and the sudden disruption of her equilibrium by the broken bond. 

“I confess apprehension for the future. I am more than capable of raising this child, and yet I grieve the plans made that were broken by my wife’s traitorous actions.” 

Jim slung an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. 

“We will stay with you for as long as you need,” offered Spock. “You will need time to mourn and to adjust, but please remember, my child: change is the essential process of all existence.” 

\---

“He’s a very sweet boy,” Nyota said, low and quiet next to Saavik’s ear. Her arm was an anchor around Saavik’s waist and it kept her warm against the breeze. 

Saavik sighed and smiled, looking down from the balcony into the garden a story below. Her thumb played with a chunk of material that was coming loose from the railing. 

“Thank you. I am very grateful for David.” 

“He really reminds me of you.” Nyota pulled her in closer. “He’s very intelligent-- and _logical_.” She gave her a quick kiss, and Saavik took Nyota’s free hand in her own and kissed her knuckles. 

“Flattery is most _illogical_ , but all the same…” Saavik met her eyes over their clasped hand.

David would spend the next few months under Amanda’s tutelage; having reached the proper age. It was the evening and he was asleep in his bed; not much more than a baby at the age of four. 

“Don’t worry about him, Dear. Your gran is a lovely woman-- and it’s just a milk-run of a mission.” 

Saavik turned in her lover’s arms, snaking her hands around her middle and standing straight. 

The stars twinkled in the moon-less Vulcan sky and she kissed Nyota. They swayed together, Saavik’s height giving her an advantage and she took control of their slow kiss, spider-silk robes sliding against Nyota’s thin gossamer ones. Saavik brought her hands to the tightly coiled braids that stayed tight to Nyota’s scalp, before cascading down her back in shiny tresses, and laid her fingers gently tangled in them. 

Saavik closed her eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! xx


End file.
